


The Lady’s Man

by DenimPrincess23



Category: Original Work
Genre: Flogging, Gen, Period Typical Attitudes, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slavery, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenimPrincess23/pseuds/DenimPrincess23
Summary: A young warrior who has lost everything is taken from him homeland as a slave. He must learn to navigate his new world, with some divine intervention and a little help from some unexpected allies.
Relationships: Elias & Cedric, Elias & Kaelyn, Mercia & Elias, Mercia/Cedric
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Market Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for checking out this story. I have been working on it off and on for about 9 years and have finally decided to start sharing it. There are still parts in the middle that I want to add to and expand, so I'll be sure to add a note if the chapter numbers suddenly change ;) This is still a work in progress, and doesn't have an ending yet ;) Enjoy!
> 
> Updated: Jan 22, 2021   
> Ch 7 has been updated! A new conversation was added at the end :) Enjoy!

Market Day

It had been a long ride from Westshire to the capital, and Mercia was growing weary. She was grateful that she had not had to travel alone and that her husband, Cedric, had insisted that she take Bron with her. Bron Wade was a young man of two and twenty, broad-shouldered, and muscular from years of working the Winchester estate.

He rode silently next to her now, observing the strict class separation that was required in public. She rode quietly, as well, because she was focused on her reason for traveling to the capital: to find a slave that would serve as her bodyguard. She had been loath to continually take Bron from his work whenever she needed to travel and had thus come up with this solution. Her husband had approved, as was usual for him when it came to her decisions. So, here she was, entering the largest city in the land on the busiest market day of the year.

She scanned the main square in search of her goal, and found it, in the back-right corner of the square. They dismounted, left their horses with the boy at the public stables, and began to make their way across the crowded square. She knew the moment she laid eyes on him that he would be the one; he had to be.

He stood a couple of stalls down from where she had stopped to speak to a trader. He stood with as much dignity as a man can muster while being chained and sold as property, and yet, his head was bowed in submission, or more probably shame. He looked strong, able-bodied, younger than Bron, and he carried himself more like a soldier than an ordinary worker.

She slowly made her way toward him, feigning interest in other wares, until she finally reached the stall. Immediately, the trader began to present his merchandise. She listened patiently, nodded occasionally, and followed him down the line.

“And for you, my lady, I have saved the best for last. He is young, strong, and very obedient. Look at these shoulders, this back, these arms, all muscle! And especially for you, my lady, I will only ask 50 pounds for him,” the trader crowed, seeming very pleased with himself.

“50! Am I a fool?” Mercia demanded. She relished feeling the thrill of bartering welling up in her. She continued, “He is young and strong, yes, but nothing special. I will give you 25.”

“25! I am insulted! “Nothing special”? This slave is all that I have said and can speak our tongue fluently. He was a prince among his people.” Mercia thought that she saw the young man flinch at this statement. The trader finished tensely,” I will take no less than 40...my lady.”

“You cannot simply make such claims. I will, of course, require proof that the boy’s fluency is not merely enough for a slave to survive on. He must know more than yes and no,” she finished, waiting for the trader to offer this proof.

“Oy, slave. You heard what her ladyship said. Speak,” ordered the trader, roughly cuffing the young man on the head, causing him to stumble forward out of line. The slave recovered from the cuff and began to speak slowly and quietly. “Your will, master. My lady has but to command, and it will be obeyed.” He finished with a bow and remained standing a step out of line.

“Well, I see you were right; he has a pretty tongue in his head. I would know, slave, how you came to learn our tongue so well?”

“My father taught me, my lady,” came the reply. “Then he taught you well,” replied Mercia, meaning the compliment. “This man says you were a prince. Tell me, is he trying to cheat me?”

“I would never presume to judge my master’s intent, my lady, but my father was a chieftain of my people. I do not know if that makes me a prince.” Again, the young man had spoken clearly and softly, appropriately. “I appreciate your candor. It is rare to find such a trait in a slave.” She turned her attention back to the trader now. “You say he is obedient. Is he marked from your lessons in obedience?” 

The trader laughed at this, as though he thought it was a joke. “No, lady. He never needed it; quiet and submissive from the day I bought him.”

“Well, I am looking for a bodyguard, not a lapdog,” Mercia said and turned to walk away. The trader quickly waved her back with entreaties to reconsider. “Please, my lady, do not walk away from this perfect specimen! He was a soldier; you can tell from his build! He would be perfectly suited for a bodyguard’s position.” He cuffed the slave again, ordering him to speak. “You like to talk so much, tell the good lady what a fine soldier you were!”

The slave looked like he wanted to speak but was a war with himself. In truth, he was. He wanted to say that he was no great warrior, had done no great feats of strength, but he also knew that this may be his one best chance of getting out of the slave market. “Well?” urged the trader. Finally, he spoke, “I was among the warriors of my tribe, my lady. I have been trained since my 14th summer, though I cannot say that I was not among the great men. I did my duty and served my lord to the fullest of my strength.” He hoped it would be enough.

“More honesty; how refreshing. Well, it would seem I have been convinced. I have made my decision, though you will be getting 35 and not a cent more.” The trader made to protest again, but she merely held up her hand.

“If you continue to argue with me, I will make sure that you never sell here again,” Mercia finished, now speaking very slowly and quietly.

“My humblest apologies, my lady; please, take him with my compliments,” the very shaken trader stuttered. He hurriedly took the bag of coins that Mercia was holding out to him, and then practically threw the slave’s lead chain at her. He scurried away from his smoldering client, neglecting to unchain the young man, or even to offer her the key.

Remembering that she was not alone, Mercia looked over her shoulder for Bron, who stood dutifully behind her. “Yes, milady,” Bron asked, sounding slightly concerned.

“Where is the Smithy in this city? Do you know?” 

“It is just down that street, there, my lady,” he replied as he indicated the direction.

She looked back at her slave, who remained as he had been since the trader had scurried away. She asked, in the softest tone she had used all day, “What is your name, boy?”

“Elias, hlafdia. Forgive me, I mean, my lady.” At this point, Elias’s eyes flicked to his mistress’ face, undoubtedly, to ascertain her reaction, and then returned to the ground. She was surprised by the strange word he had used.

“What was that you said?” she questioned, not used to the feeling of confusion that pervaded her mind. As she spoke, she noticed the young man’s shoulders tense, as if he were preparing for her anger.

“I said Hlafdia. Please, forgive me if I have offended you, my lady,” he answered as he lowered his head so that his chin rested on his chest.

A small smile crept across her face, but Elias could not see it. “Offended? How can I be offended if I don’t know what it means? Explain.”

Elias lifted his head slightly but kept his eyes downward. “It is a title for a lady of authority among my people, my lady,” the young man said slowly as if he were unsure of how candid he could be. Again, he risked a glance upward to see if the lady was satisfied.

Well, he’s a bold one, and yet, still so meek.

“Elias, you need not fear me. I am pleased that you have chosen to honor me in your native tongue. I know that speaking a new tongue can be difficult. When we are in public, you must address me in my tongue, but when we have returned home, you may address me in yours if you choose.”

A look of utter relief spread across Elias’s face as he breathed,” Thank you, my lady,” as if he had held that breath for a lifetime.

“You may not want to thank me just yet,” she replied, not unkindly. “I warn you now that I will be upholding the laws of the land, and I will have to be harsh at times. Back home, I am free to treat my slaves as I please, and I promise that you will be treated well.” She paused, giving her words time to fully sink in, and then continued.

“You must have had the laws drilled into your mind by that toad, so I will not go over it again. I am under no delusions that you are a mindless idiot, and so I will not waste time telling you how to use your common sense. Now, we must get you out of these chains.”

Her tone changed entirely at this point, and she became the epitome of proper mistresses. “Come,” she ordered as she threw his lead chain to Bron. She then began to stride determinedly in the direction that Bron had indicated the Smithy to lie, berating her subordinates for their slowness.

After maneuvering their way through the still-thronging square to the Smithy’s street, the trio had a short walk to the Smithy’s. The giant of a blacksmith stopped his work and bowed as he saw Lady Winchester approaching.

“Afternoon, my lady,” he rumbled, “How may I be of service?”

“Good afternoon, Master Blacksmith,” she intoned in an imperious manner. “I need the chains removed from my new slave.” At this, Bron pushed the young man toward the Smithy so that he almost stumbled. Mercia continued, “The slave driver neglected to give me the key, and I cannot stand the clatter they make.”

“Of course, my lady, I’ll get to work on them right away. It might take me a bit, so if you wish to leave him ‘ere with me an’ come back for him in a quarter-hour, I’d be obliged.”

“I leave him in your charge, then, Master Smith, and will return for him in a quarter-hour. You,” she addressed Elias roughly, “if I hear you gave this man any trouble, it will be the worse for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lady,” Elias replied, bowing slightly.

Mercia suddenly swept back down the street with Bron in tow. The Smithy watched them leave and then turned his attention to the young man in front of him who couldn’t be more than twenty years. “What be your name, lad,” he gently rumbled.

“Elias, my lord,” he replied clearly, yet humbly. 

“I’m just a simple man, son, trying to make his way in the world,” the Smithy rumbled pleasantly. “Master’ will do just fine for me.”

“Thank you, master, I meant no offense,” Elias replied humbly.

“There’s no harm done. Now, let’s get those blasted chains off you; I dare say you’ve had to bear them long enough.” With that, the Smithy set to work removing the young man’s bonds, and in no time at all, he was free of them.

“There ye are, lad. I’ll wager that feels much better,” the Smithy said, observing his handiwork.

“Yes, thank you, master,” Elias replied, rubbing his sore wrists, the gratitude evident in his voice.

“It is the least I can do, boy. You have a hard life ahead of you and a hard mistress, too, by the looks of it. Just keep your head down and do as you’re bid.” It’s the least I can do for the young man, thought the Smithy.

“Thank you, master. I will never forget your kindness and compassion,” Elias replied. This time, he met the Smithy’s deep, dark eyes, if only for an instant. That instant was shattered when an outraged voice split the air.

“You dare look into the face of a freeman, slave,” the knight who had just arrived demanded, before grabbing Elias by the back of the neck and forcing him to his knees.

The Smithy knew the laws against slaves looking at their superiors, but this was going too far. He had grown fond of the lad in the short time that they had spent together, and he would not have him treated this way in front of him. He had to speak up, but he did not want to overstep his bounds with the obviously enraged knight. 

“Sir, I’m grateful for your quick response to this offense, but I assure you that I am quite capable of handling one lowly slave. The offense was against me, and by right, I can punish him however I see fit,” the Smithy rumbled, as he straightened himself to his full height, which was a towering six feet.

The knight turned his attention to the immense man and addressed him for the first time. “And you may do so,” replied the knight,” but only after I have finished with him.” With that, he once more turned his attention to the kneeling figure in front of him. Grabbing a handful of the young man’s hair, he twisted and growled, “Beg pardon before I have you flayed bloody!”

“Please,” Elias begged, “forgive me, master. I meant no disrespect.” Pain and fear were evident in his voice. The knight yanked Elias’s head back further, held his dagger to his throat, and hissed, “I should kill you for your arrogance, filthy dog!”

“I would not advise that,” rang the cool reply that none were expecting. 

Unbeknownst to the knight, Lady Winchester had come on to the scene in time to witness this latest development. The knight leaped to his feet and, realizing who had spoken, snapped to attention.

“That is better,” she stated calmly. “Now, explain to me what is going on here, and why you wish my slave dead,” she ordered.

“Lady Winchester,” the knight stammered, then recovered, “I was passing this stall on my way from the square when I happened to glance inside. It was then that I saw the slave look the blacksmith full in the face. Naturally, I could not let this insult pass, my lady.” At this, Lady Winchester held up her hand to stop him, and then looked down at Elias’s still-kneeling figure. He seemed to shudder slightly as if expecting another blow. Next, her focus turned to the Smithy; “Is the knight speaking true? Did this slave look into your face?”

The Smithy seemed to hesitate as if struggling with himself on how to answer. Finally, he spoke, “Yes, my lady, he did. He was simply thanking me for removing his chains, nothing insubordinate or rude,” he added quickly.

How could he have been so stupid? He knew the consequences. 

“I have heard enough. I am grateful for your honesty, Master Smith, and for your services to me. I suggest that you maintain your social distance from slaves in the future, however.”

“As you bid, my lady,” the Smithy answered, head bowed in acquiescence.

Satisfied that her message had sunk in, Lady Winchester turned back to the knight, whom she had left standing stiff in front of her. “What is your name, Sir?”

“Dynadin Steele, my lady,” the knight answered promptly, with a curt little bow.

“I thank you, Sir Dynadin, for your assistance in this situation, but I suggest that you take care in the future as to whose property you threaten. Punishment is one thing, but I would hate to lose a strong slave before getting any use out of him,” Lady Winchester stated coolly.

“Of course, my lady. It will never happen again,” Sir Dynadin intoned as if he had used the same promise many a time. He bowed, glancing down at the source of his foul temper.

Now that the knight was taken care of, she turned attention to the source of this mess. “As for you, slave,” she began, keeping her voice even, “you disobeyed my direct order to behave by disrespecting this man. Further, you dishonored me in front of a knight of the realm. By right, I should have you flogged,” she stopped for a moment to catch her breath and saw Elias visibly flinch and lower his head further. Perhaps she was laying it on a bit too thick, but she had to maintain control. The knight was far too eager to take it for himself.

She went on, aware of the pained expression on the smith’s face as he held his peace, “For the simple reason that I do not have time for such an ordeal, I will be lenient.” There was an audible sigh, though it was hard to tell from whom it came.

“Now, you will ask the smith for his pardon and thank Sir Dynadin for reminding you of your place. If, and only if, you learn some obedience before we leave this stall, will I pardon you. Do you understand me, boy?”

“By your will, my lady,” the young man replied weakly, and then he rose, moved in front of the Smithy, and knelt again. “Master, I beg of you, forgive your humble servant for his arrogance and disrespect,” Elias said, as though he meant every word.

The Smithy stood for a moment, taking it all in, and then found his voice to reply, “You are forgiven.”

Elias rose again and took his place in front of the gloating knight. Once more on his knees, Elias began, “I do not wish to cause offense; how should I address you?”

Dynadin sneered and replied, “You may address me as ‘master,’ slave.”

Elias bowed his head in understanding before continuing, “I am grateful, master, for your correction and will strive to live by it. I beg your forgiveness for wasting your time.” 

“It seems you may learn your place after all, slave. You have my pardon,” Dynadin crowed haughtily.

“Alright,” Lady Winchester began, “Now that we have dealt with that, I believe the matter is resolved. Should you disrespect me in public again, boy, I will not hesitate to take the full measure of the law out on your hide. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my lady,” Elias replied, his tone slightly less strained.

“Good, now, we must be off home. Thank you again, Master Blacksmith, for your services. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, my lady. Consider it my apology for my part in this situation,” the Smithy replied humbly.

“Then consider this my pardon,” she replied as she held out a small bag of coins.

“Thank you, my lady,” he rumbled as he accepted the bag,” you are too generous.”

“It’s nothing,” Lady Winchester replied, dismissively. “Good evening to you and farewell.”

“Evening to you, as well, my lady, and safe travels.”

“My lady,” Sir Dynadin spoke up, “It would be my honor to escort you to the stables.”

“Thank you, Sir Dynadin, but that will not be necessary. I would not delay you from your day any further. Come, boy.” This last comment was directed at the still kneeling slave, as she turned to leave once more. Elias rose slowly, bowed to the Smithy, and followed his mistress out into the street where Bron waited to lead them back to the stables. 


	2. Campsite Conversations

Campsite Conversations

Crickets. Frogs. Cicadas. A nightingale.

Elias heard all these things as he lay on his back, gazing at the stars. After the commotion and closeness of the city, the open air of the forest was freeing. The events of the past days were still playing through his mind. He had no way of knowing barely a month ago that he would be in the land of his mortal enemies, let alone a slave to one of their leaders.

Still, something about all the situations and trials he had been through made sense as if he were meant to have gone through them. He had never felt such a sense of purpose or peace about anything before this. This feeling was what had kept him from fighting back as he was tormented by the slave driver, and what had given him the strength to remain humble in the faces of his new masters. He almost wanted to call it a presence, as if someone or something was with him. He had heard about this kind of thing from the wise men and teachers of his people. They spoke of a god who was the Creator of all but chose to live in and among men. He had never believed it was possible until now, and he was beginning to understand his want and need for this God.

“Elias,” the whispered call came from the darkness near him. It was the lady.

“Yes, my lady,” he asked, curious as to why she was still awake at such an hour.

“Stoke the fire, please,” she answered in a hushed tone.

“Yes, my lady. Forgive me for neglecting it,” he answered as he rose and moved toward the glowing embers. He realized now just how cold the night air had become and berated himself for not being attentive to his mistress’ needs. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not noticed the change. As the embers sprang to life, heat and light began to radiate from the fire pit.

He looked up and saw the shadowy outline of the man who had come with Lady Winchester. He remembered that she had called him Bron. He sat about 20 feet away, keeping watch. Elias wanted to go over, to speak to him, but he wasn’t sure what the other man would think. After all, he wasn’t even sure what Bron’s position was, or if he were allowed to speak to him. He hadn’t noticed if he wore the marks of slavery.

“Elias?” He heard the quiet question, and it brought him back to the fireside. “Yes, my lady?” 

“I need you to know that I am not the person you saw in the blacksmith’s shop. I spoke roughly because I had to. I’ve built a reputation as being…harsh so that when situations come up, fewer people tend to question me. If I had shown any weakness, the knight would have taken control of the situation, and…well, I wouldn’t have been able to protect you.”

“I understand, my lady. I-,” he stopped, not sure whether he should continue. When Lady Winchester gestured for him to go on, he did, though cautiously. “My lady, I was wrong to be so thoughtless, and I am truly grateful to you. I will do better, my lady.”

“I believe you, Elias. I know this is a lot to take in and learn. The smith was a kind man, so it was easy to forget, but you need to understand that there are so many more men like the knight than the smith. You understand that I will need to make my husband aware of the situation?” 

“Of course, my lady.”

“Well, we ought to get some rest before tomorrow. Go see if Bron needs anything, and then get some rest.”

“Your will, my lady.” He rose from his place and made his way over to the edge of the camp. He hesitated, not sure how to address the other man, and so decided to just step into his line of sight and wait to be acknowledged. It worked, and Bron spoke, “Yes?”

“Excuse me for disturbing you, sir. My lady wonders if you require anything?” Bron laughed, which surprised Elias, but he tried to hold his composure, determined to learn his lesson. Bron was speaking now, getting over his laughter. “I’m sorry, Elias. I don’t mean to laugh, only no one calls me sir. I know, we never told you before, with everything that happened, and I really appreciate the courtesy. I know today was rough, and I don’t want to add any confusion. I am free, yes, but I am a serf, so I’m only a step above you in the whole scheme of things, really. Please, just call me Bron, and don’t feel like you have to stand on ceremony with me.”

“Thank you for explaining. I am still learning and never wish to offend.”

“I completely understand, believe me. I was not free until I was 15; my family served the Lord and Lady Winchester. My father saved Her Ladyship’s life and was granted freedom for our whole family, along with a farm on the Winchester estate. I still serve as Her Ladyship’s guardian when she travels, but she knows that my father needs my help on the farm now that he is getting older. So, I guess you’re my replacement.”

Elias had become so much more at ease while Bron had been speaking. It felt so good to be able to breathe without fear of messing something up. “Well, I hope I can live up to your example, Bron,” he said with a light laugh. “Is there anything I can get you? Will you need a replacement before morning?”

“Thank you, but I should be fine. I’ll see you in the morning. Go get some rest.” 


	3. Meeting the Master

Meeting the Master

They had finally arrived at the Winchester Estate. It had been two very long days that had felt like weeks. The estate was vast and bountiful, for the Marquis of Winchester was highly favored by the king. He had been decorated for his meritorious conduct during several campaigns against the rebel tribes and been well rewarded for his service to the crown.

Lord Cedric Winchester was a formidable figure, to say the least. He stood at least a head and nearly shoulders above most men and was broad in those shoulders. His face, though firmly set, was not unkind or harsh. That also spoke to his character, because he seemed a hard man until one got to know him. He could even be quite amiable in the right company. He was a strict master, but never cruel.

Like his wife, Lord Winchester became more severe when in public, because that was what was expected of him. He, however, believed that all men deserved to be treated with dignity and respect, no matter their station. This was the man that turned to face them as they entered the study after leaving Bron to tend the horses.

“Lady Winchester, my lord,” announced the page as she strode through the study door, Elias close behind.

“Thank you, Tomas,” said Cedric. “Will you go alert the cook that my lady has returned and will be taking a light supper here in the study?” 

“I will, right away, milord,” Tomas said as he bowed his way out of the room, slipping past Elias on his way out. Elias, who had stopped short of fully entering the room, stood silent and still, waiting.

“It is so good to be home again,” Mercia sighed tiredly as she sank onto the low couch by the fireplace.

“I see that your mission was a success,” said Cedric as he noticed Elias standing silently by the door.

“Oh goodness, where has my head gone? I had almost forgotten, I was so tired,” Mercia said, exasperatedly. “Come here, boy.” 

Elias moved toward the warm glow of the fireplace, which did little to warm the cold that had seeped into his very core. Fear, apprehension, and doubt; all permeated his being as he willed himself toward the man who would be his master. 

Cedric had moved to stand at the far side of the fireplace and was watching the slave’s progress intently. He looked healthy, able-bodied. He carried himself like a warrior, which was interesting. But that face, though down-cast, was familiar in some strange way. His wife’s voice brought him out of his musings.

“Stand there, in the light, so that he might see you clearly. There, that’s better. Cedric, this is Elias, my new bodyguard.” At this, Elias dropped to one knee and bowed his head, saying, “My lord.”

“Well, it seems you have made a good choice with this one, my dear,” Cedric said as he moved toward Elias. “He looks strong and capable of protecting my greatest treasure,” he said, sending a smile and a wink toward his lady. Addressing Elias now, he ordered him to stand. As Elias returned to his feet, he continued, trying to ignore the growing feeling that he had seen this young man before, “How old are you, lad?”

“Twenty winters, my lord,” came the dutiful reply.

“Where did you come from?”

Come from, or was taken from? Elias thought with a hint of contempt before answering, “From north of Albium, my lord.”

“Albium,” Cedric asked in surprise. “Then, you must be Cornovii,” he continued, more to himself than to anyone else. Then the realization hit him like a lightning bolt. “You are the son of Caractacus, the chieftain who rebelled against us,” Cedric breathed, as everything came rushing back to him. The sights, the sounds, and the faces of the last campaign he had commanded before retiring.

Elias’s head snapped up at the mention of his late father and didn’t even care if he was punished for looking into the face of his father’s killer. He had thought never to see this man again.

Time seemed to stand still, frozen for what felt like an eternity. Master and slave, eyes locked on each other, each daring the other to break. Mercia was so taken aback by the sudden turn of events that she could merely glance between the two men before her, locked in some silent battle of wills.

Her husband rarely spoke of his military career, and that was only while in the company of his comrades, who occasionally came to a dinner party. Military men were not usually known for their social graces, but they made an exception for their honored leader. His sudden outburst was regarding his final campaign before retirement, quelling a rebellion in the north. Beyond that, she knew not what was going on.

The look in the young man’s eyes would have withered a weaker man, and the seasoned commander knew it well – pure hatred. Here stood the last remaining member of the ruling family of the Cornovii, their crown prince, as it were.

Cedric had personally struck down the chieftain but had ordered that the remaining warriors and tribespeople be taken alive. He had not known that the prince survived until the prisoners were corralled in the aftermath of the battle. He had been told of the young man’s identity by his aide as he had surveyed his spoils. His face had faded into the blur of countless prisoners the commander had scanned before sending them off to the markets in the south, so it was no surprise that it had taken him so long to recognize him.

Now, this young man who had so recently been the essence of humility stared openly and boldly into his master’s face. Cedric admired his courage and will because not many slaves would have dared to do what he did now, no matter what might provoke them. Their fear of punishment was more than anything else they might feel, not so with this young man. He showed no fear, and Cedric respected that.

The stampede of emotions that struck Elias at that moment was nearly enough to knock him out, but he refused to waver. The day his family had perished at the hands of the Albicans was etched in his memory in vivid detail. The intense feelings it stirred as well as the number of times he had replayed its events had done their work. 

He had not seen his father fall, but his brothers-in-arms had pointed out who was responsible as they had been surveyed like livestock being sent to market. He had not dared look into the face of his master before, not knowing what kind of a man he was, but now, he didn’t care what this man did to him. He had already taken everything from him; death would be a release. And so, he stared, daring the other man to look away first.

“You killed my father.” The statement was not loud, but it held all the power of a man battling to hold back rage. Elias had broken the silence. He didn’t know what he wanted the man to say; he just couldn’t bear the oppressive silence any longer. Elias had been surprised at what was not in the other man’s eyes; disdain, disgust, or hatred. Instead, those eyes were full of sorrow that he could not understand, could not grasp the meaning of.

“He attacked first; it was battle.” He was not making excuses, but rather statements of simple fact. He went on, then, in a tone that was meant to be reassuring. “He fought well. Your ancestors will be pleased.”

“You dare speak of my ancestors as if you know anything about my people!” The anger was starting to boil over now. His fists kept clenching and unclenching, trying to use some of the raw energy that was pulsing through him.

“I know a great deal about your people, Elias,” came the reply that was almost a sigh. “I learned so that I could find a way to make peace. However, your father attacked before I could request a meeting with him.”

“Peace,” Elias spat back at him. “You mean submission to southern rule. We would never have been free.” Cedric seemed to grow wearier by the minute and had even turned away from the younger man. He turned back now, his eyes even sadder than before, and yet his voice had a hard edge to it as if he were willing Elias to understand.

“I will not argue politics with you because I am no politician. I am a warrior, and when I say I sought peace, it is because I have been fighting since before you were born. I was tired of the pointless bloodshed and would have given your people anything to end the war. That is why I gave the order that as many of your people were to be spared as was possible.”

“Then why were we sold like animals? Why could we not remain in our land?”

“Because it was one rebellion too many. My king ordered your annihilation. I did what I could to keep that from happening.” There was silence again. Elias was at war within himself. How could this be possible? Could the man that he had hated with such passion have tried to save his people from being wiped from the earth? It didn’t make sense. “So,” he began slowly, “I am supposed to believe that you disobeyed your king to save us?”

“I did not disobey him. I went to speak to him before we set out on the final campaign. I convinced him that it would be more… profitable for him to allow your people to survive.” Elias scoffed at this. He knew Cedric couldn’t have had a better motive for wanting his people spared, but Cedric was continuing, pleading for Elias to understand. “That was only a means to keep your people alive. I could not watch another culture blotted out.”

That was it, the last straw. Elias took a deep breath, steadying himself. “But you could watch us be made lower than the dust beneath your feet? Beaten until all sense of self and pride fade to nothing? Made to speak this foreign tongue until our own is lost? Your salvation has killed us as surely as your swords slew our brothers!” His voice had grown from strained to shouting, and when he finished, he was breathing heavily and shaking.

“And yet…here you stand. A son of the Cornovii, proud, strong, and fearless,” Cedric said, his voice low and full of what sounded like admiration.

The guards must have heard the shouts because they came rushing through the study doors, each with his sword drawn. Elias whirled around to face them, his heart still pounding with emotion. He was prepared to fight if he had to. It was not necessary, however, for Cedric had already raised his hand to stop them.

“Thank you, but we are alright. Simply a heated discussion. Please, wait outside, and I will call if I need anything.”

They looked confused, and rightly so, as their lord was having a “heated discussion” with a slave, in his private study. They knew he was different from other masters, but this was a first, even for him. Neither of them wanted to be the one to suggest that the general couldn’t handle one slave, so they obeyed, returning to their posts and closing the doors behind them.

Elias was even more confused now; from everything he knew of their law, Lord Winchester should have had him locked up at the very least, put to death at the most. Perhaps he had been mistaken about this man. He knew that Lady Winchester had saved him from a beating that he had rightfully earned. Maybe, he could learn to serve them, if only out of gratitude. It took only a matter of moments, but when Elias turned around, he had made up his mind.

He took a breath and took a knee, breathing out the last of his anger. He had been beyond disrespectful to a superior, and that alone would have angered his father. He had thought he was defending his people, but he had dishonored them by letting his feelings and pride get the better of him. This man, the enemy of his people, had done everything in his power to save them. Elias knew he had much to make up for if given a chance.

“My lord,” he began tentatively, doing his best to keep his voice low and even, “may I beg a moment more to speak?”

“Of course, Elias,” Cedric answered, relieved that they seemed to have finally crested a wave.

“My lord, I humbly beg your pardon, though I do not deserve it. I know now that I owe my life to you, my lord, and again, to my lady. I have returned your goodness with insolence and accusations. If I were not already yours to command under your law, my life would be yours by the laws of my people. I only beg the chance to repay your goodness. I accept any punishment you deem fit for my actions, but please…” his voice faltered with sudden emotion, “please allow me to stay.”

He had not intended to beg, but he also had not realized how much he wanted to stay. He knew his master had every reason to send him straight back to any market of his choosing, and he had no right to ask for any different. So, he waited and hoped.

“Elias, I appreciate and accept your apology. I feel I must also ask for your pardon. I know I brought back a deep hurt, and for that, I am truly sorry. It was never my intention to cause you pain. My shock was no excuse to be so unfeeling, and I hope you will be able to forgive me.” When he stopped speaking, Elias slowly raised his eyes, unsure if he was meant to answer. He was shocked by the pain he saw in the older man’s eyes, and he was moved to words. “My lord, I-… thank you, truly.”

“I am so glad we have been able to bridge the chasm that was between us. I wanted to thank you for your offer of service. I know it is a hard thing for a man to willingly submit his life to another, even when he has no other choice, and I am grateful you have. I must admit to being curious, though. What did you mean, by owing your life to Lady Winchester? Was it because she bought you, saving you from a worse fate, perhaps?”

“My lord, I will always be grateful to my lady for taking me from that place, but it is for another reason that I am most grateful. I was foolish and thoughtless, and my lady was merciful and gracious, sparing me punishment, though I rightly deserved it.”

“Mercia, it sounds like your trip was exciting. What happened, my dear?”

“Oh darling, it was a nightmare. I had to bring Elias to a smithy because the slave driver was an incompetent fool and didn’t remove Elias’ shackles. When I had stepped away for a moment, Elias chose to look at the blacksmith, to thank him. A knight, a horrible man, happened to see it and would have had him flogged or killed him if I had not returned and intervened. I had to be harsh, as you know, I sometimes do, so that the knight would not force his hand. In the end, Elias only had to eat some humble pie, rather than face the lash.” Mercia finished her account of events with a sigh. “He is still learning, Cedric, and I have already given him a full pardon, so don’t torture the poor boy with it any further.”

“Well, that is quite an event. I am glad it was you there and not I, for I would not have let that knight fellow off so easily.” Cedric gave his wife a wink before continuing. “Thank you both for filling me in on the events of the day. Elias, I will never unjustly punish anyone who serves us, and to punish you now would be exactly that. As for you staying, while I am pleased you want to, that choice will be up to Lady Winchester, since you were to be her bodyguard. My dear,” Cedric finished, turning again to the couch where Mercia lay. “Will you accept the continued service of this young man?”

“I will, my lord, and gladly,” replied Mercia, glad they had gotten through the storm.

“Very well, then. Elias, do you know the oath of loyalty?”

“I do, my lord.”

“Good; proceed.”

“Most gracious lord, merciful lady, I swear to serve and obey you humbly and faithfully, with my life and my strength, as long as I am yours to command.”

Cedric and Mercia both noticed the subtle change he had made to it but said nothing of it. “Elias, as your master, I swear to care for you and protect you, as long as you are under my command.”


	4. The Invitation

The Invitation

Elias had been dreading this moment since Lord Cedric had given him the task of personally delivering the invitation to his lordship’s birthday celebration. The minute Elias had learned to whom he was being sent, he wanted to plead for another job but knew he could not. No matter how patient Lord Winchester was, Elias knew not to question his master’s orders. And so, he had traveled the distance to the estate of the one man whom he had hoped never to see again. That man was Sir Dynadin, the overzealous protector of the laws of the land. Every step increased his dread, and thoughts flooded his mind.

Will he remember me? Will he still be angry? It’s been months, he must have forgotten one lowly slave. Or so he hoped.

When he arrived at the mansion (Sir Dynadin had inherited it from his very wealthy family), Elias was ushered in by an elderly slave named Barthemaeus. He was quiet and friendly, but very guarded. Just before knocking at the door to the knight’s study, he whispered, “Whatever you do, do not forget to kneel. It is the law of the house.” He then knocked, waited for the gruff “Enter,” and then opened the doors. Elias followed him in and stopped a few paces behind as Barthemaeus bowed deeply, saying, “A messenger from Lord Winchester, Master,” losing all emotion in his voice. He then backed out of the room, closing the doors with him.

Alone now, Elias remembered what the old man had said. He took a step forward and knelt, delivered his message, and waited dutifully for a reply. When none came, Elias felt the familiar sensation of being looked over. He prayed the knight wouldn’t recognize him and choose to enact his desired punishment.

He warred within himself before quietly asking if he should send a reply. This earned him a barked order to repeat his message, which he did, careful to remain calm. When he had received the response and been dismissed, he let out a quiet breath, rose to his feet, and turned to go. The next order made his blood run cold. He had been ordered to stop and stay. His mind raced anew with questions, all of which had to be quelled if he was going to remain calm. He turned back and stood before the one man he truly feared. He was coming towards him now.

Don’t move. Don’t flinch. Don’t move. Don’t flinch.

And the question came hissing into his ear, “Do you remember me, boy?” Elias involuntarily flinched at the tone, so chilling and menacing. His worst fear had been realized. He knew the man recognized him and could not lie. To tell a freeman, and a knight at that, that he was not worth being remembered by a slave would be the gravest of insults. Elias knew the law: Any freeman may punish a slave for any offense to his person. This man could legally have him flogged, and his lady could not save him this time. So, he resigned himself to whatever fate might await him, sent up a prayer, and dutifully answered, “Yes, master.”

Sir Dynadin could not believe his eyes. He had seen countless slaves since that day in the capital, but he had never forgotten this one. This one, who had been the cause of his being reprimanded by the wife of perhaps the greatest general in the land. That day still left a sour taste in his mouth when it came to mind, though it was slightly lessened by the memory of the slave pleading at his feet. Now, here, kneeling before him in his study, was the very physical reminder of that painful encounter. The young man was dressed well, much better than he had been the last time he’d seen him, and had obviously learned a few lessons in manners judging from his behavior. The young man’s quiet voice pulled him from his perusal, “Do you wish to send a reply, sir?”

Oh, blast! The young man had been sent to deliver a message to the knight, and now he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it had been. Curse my stupid brain! Frustrated that he had to ask, Dynadin spat out, “Tell the message again, and be quick about it!”

“Yes, sir. Lord Winchester, Earl of Westshire, and his wife request the honor of your presence, Sir Dynadin Steele, Knight of His Majesty’s Guard, at a banquet in honor of his lordship’s birthday.” The young man finished speaking and waited for a reply.

The invitation was merely a formality since everyone knew that the whole Guard would be invited since Lord Winchester had been a member early in his military career. Even so, Dynadin still felt a puff of pride as he made his reply, “Tell your master that he honors me with his invitation and that it would be my honor to attend his birthday celebration. You are dismissed.” The young man bowed his head and made a move to leave.

Something came to Dynadin at that moment, and he blurted out, “Wait! Stay where you are!” The young man froze for a moment, and then returned to the place he had just occupied, though he remained standing this time: back straight, hands folded in front of him, head bowed, the image of servitude. A question gnawed at Dynadin, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such a powerful urge to ask it. He gave in and, standing, walked right up to the statuesque figure.

“Do you remember me, boy,” he asked, his tone low and menacing. He felt a twinge of satisfaction when he saw the young man stiffen ever so slightly. He enjoyed it when people cowered before him; it made him feel powerful.

“Yes, master,” came the reply, and Dynadin heard the hesitation before the young man said the title. 

“You remembered my order, I see,” he sneered, almost triumphantly. “You’ve got new clothes, but you’re still the filthy mongrel from the marketplace,” he spat out, and then taunted,” That lady of yours must have beaten some manners into you after I left since you haven’t tried to look at me yet. Gods know that blacksmith didn’t have it in him, all bluster and talk he was.”

He didn’t know why he felt the need to continue baiting the young man, but there was something about his calm demeanor that frustrated him to no end. Aside from the small flinch he’d earned at the beginning of his tirade, the young man hadn’t moved an inch, save for his even breathing, and Dynadin was determined to break him. He needed a reason, any reason, to take out his frustration. Suddenly, he heard the young man speak.

“Lady Winchester.”

“What did you say?”

“My master seemed to have forgotten her name; I was merely reminding him.”

That’s it! Last straw! “Get on your knees,” he shouted as he shoved the young man down. It was so sudden that he fell before he could catch himself. “You dare to stand in my presence and speak like that! You obviously need another lesson in manners!” The young man was scrambling to regain a kneeling position as he kept yelling. “In my home, dogs belong on the floor! Well? Anything to say for yourself?” He yanked the young man’s head up so that he could see his face. He relished the look of fear. All he needed was for the young man to meet his eyes, and he’d have what he needed.

There. The mongrel had looked, if even for the briefest moment. Dynadin would beat the slave himself, and no one would question it. He had also dared to remain standing in his presence. The nerve. At least he’d gotten a plea out of him. He pushed the young man’s head down and strode to his desk, where he kept his riding-whip. He yelled for the rest of his slaves. He liked an audience when he handed out discipline. As Barthemaeus and the other 5 slaves entered the study, they knelt in a half-circle around the room. They knew what was coming; Sir Dynadin was a rough master.

Elias didn’t have time to breathe. One minute he was standing frozen, and the next, he was being hurled to the floor, and the knight was shouting. All he knew was that he had to do whatever the man said. Something about dogs. Now he was asking for an answer.

“Forgive me, master,” he managed to choke out before the knight shoved his head back down and walked away. He had forgotten to return to kneeling when he had been called back and had spoken insolently. He had earned whatever was coming next, and he had to keep calm to get through it.

Why did you open your mouth? Why do you always have to get yourself into trouble? Here it comes. Just breathe. It’s not like you’ve never been beaten. Father did it often enough. Oh, great, there’s going to be an audience. Breathe.

One. Two. Three. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Blurred tears. Mind-numbing pain. Jaw clenched to stop the cries, until he couldn’t hold them back any more. Thirty. Whatever God is out there, please. Help.

A pause. Footsteps retreating to the desk. Something slams down. Thank you, whoever You are. Scratching of quill on paper. Barked orders. “Get up!” Slow, agonizing movement. Do not pass out. Keep it together. A scroll thrust out. “Take this back to your master. Get out of my sight.” A bow brings a wave of nausea, but it is swallowed with the pain as Elias backs out of the room, begging whatever God helped him to get him home before he passed out. Barthemaeus caught up to him at the front door, worry etched into the lines of his kind face, “Oh, lad. Didn’t I warn you?”

“Yes, you did. I was stupid,” Elias replied, his voice a rasp through the pain. “I’ll survive,” answering the question in the old man’s eyes. “Thank you for the warning. Take care.” With that, he made his way home as quickly as his body would allow. He had no idea how long the whole ordeal had taken, and he hoped that he would not be in more trouble when he got home.

He waved off the worried looks of the others when he arrived home, asking instead where he could find His Lordship. The library. His next goal: get to the library. His vision was getting blurry again, and each step was torture. He knocked at the door and, obeying the summons, entered.

Cedric looked up from his work and beckoned Elias forward. “Do you have a reply from Sir Dynadin?” The young man stopped in front of his desk and answered, “Yes, my lord. Sir Dynadin’s words were, “You honor me with your invitation, and it would be my honor to accept.” The young man seemed to be out of breath and unsteady. He also hadn’t bowed when he arrived, which was unlike him.

“Are you alright, Elias,” Cedric asked, sincerely concerned. Rather than answer, Elias held out the scroll that he had been given, “Sir Dynadin instructed me to deliver this to you, my lord.” Strange. What else could he need to say apart from the acceptance? And why does the boy look like death? All his questions were doubled as soon as he opened the scroll:

My Lord Marquis,

It is with regret that I return your property damaged. The slave was willfully disobedient of the rules of my home, and I felt it within my right to punish the offense. If the damage is too substantial, I will, of course, compensate you for the loss of property.

Your humble servant,

Dynadin Steele, Knight of the Realm

“Damaged,” Cedric said, questioningly, more to himself than anyone else. It was at that moment that Elias could hold on no longer, and collapsed on the library floor, his world cold and black.

Cedric was up and out of his chair as Elias hit the ground, rushing around the desk to the crumpled form. He saw the blood soaking through the man’s shirt and knew what had happened. He shouted then. “Anna! Tomas! Mercia! To the study quickly!”

They all arrived within moments of each other, knowing it was only an emergency that drove their lord to raise his voice, let alone shout. His orders came in short bursts, sending each to a task. Anna was sent running for warm water and a clean cloth, while Tomas was tasking with helping carry Elias to the lounge couch. Mercia took over from there, sending Tomas running for the healer’s cottage behind the main house.

Strong hands lifted him up and carried him to a couch. The cold darkness that had swallowed him just moments before was being replaced by a warm glow; a light was punching holes in the darkness around him. An inexplicable sense of peace was washing over him, numbing the pain and fear that engulfed him. He slowly became aware of the source of the light that now surrounded him; it was a man, or at least, the figure of a man.

Elias wanted to ask who he was, but before he could, the figure put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Rest, child. You are safe here.” That voice, so strong and gentle, brought another wave of peace over Elias. He relaxed, but could not help but ask, “Are you the one who helped me…back there?”

“I AM.” That was the last thing Elias heard before he drifted off again, this time surrounded by glowing warmth.


	5. Judgement

Judgment

An echoing SLAM rang through the room as the doors of Dynadin’s study flew open.

“YOU!” The booming voice of Lord Winchester reverberated through the whole house. “Guards! Seize him!” The bodyguards came from the background and wrestled a very confused and angry Dynadin from his desk and to a kneeling position in front of Lord Cedric Winchester.

“What is the meaning of this,” he demanded, trying to wrestle his arms from the vise grips of the guards.

“I send my wife’s personal slave to deliver an invitation, trusting that my property will be respected in my absence, and what do I learn when he returns? You, sir, had beat him half to death!” Cedric was fuming, and he had barely given vent to the full measure of his anger. “How many lashes?”

Dynadin just stuttered, “I…I don’t…” Cedric bellowed, “How many lashes did you give him!” Dynadin found his voice then, and almost shouted, “I lost count!” A small voice came from the corner of the study, “32.” Cedric turned to find the source of the sound and found a young man kneeling in the corner, trying his very best to be invisible. “What did you say?”

“Forgive me, my lord, but it was 32, my lord.” Dynadin practically hissed at the young man, “Be silent!” He was shocked when a heavy hand connected with his face and sent his head reeling. Cedric had struck him, hard, and was saying, “You no longer give the orders here.” He went on, venom dripping from every word, “Do tell me, if you can, what he did that deserved so terrible a punishment.”

Dynadin was still in shock, but he managed to shake himself out of it and regain some semblance of his dignity. He drew himself up and answered, “The slave remained standing in my presence after he was instructed to kneel, spoke insolently, and then dared to look into my face! My lord,” he added through gritted teeth when Cedric raised an eyebrow at him. Cedric nodded then, seeming to consider what Dynadin had said.

“I believe your first accusation is true, though perhaps it did not happen as you suggest.” Dynadin made to protest, but Cedric cut him off. “Elias assures me that he did, in fact, follow your rule to kneel, but then forgot to after you called him back for your interrogation session. He has accepted responsibility for that failure and has been pardoned.” Again, Dynadin made to reply, but Cedric was not finished. “He also confessed to your second accusation, and I concede that this was a punishable offense, though it would have required merely a couple of lashes to remedy. As to your third accusation, I find the accounts of the event vary somewhat.”

“What accounts,” Dynadin finally managed to blurt out. “Is it my word against that of a slave,” he spat with utter contempt.

“Actually yes,” Cedric replied coolly, “it is your word against that of a slave who has never lied to me, even when telling the truth meant punishment.”

“Who are you going to believe, then,” Dynadin challenged, “a slave? Or the word of a fellow soldier?”

Cedric got close to Dynadin then, and said, “I will believe the man who has earned my trust. And I see no soldier; only a coward hiding behind a title.”

With that, Cedric stood to his full height and stepped back from the man. He took a deep breath to steady himself and turned his attention to the young man still in the corner. “What is your name, son?”

“G-Gordon, my lord.”

“Gordon, find the steward and have him gather the rest of the household back here. Go.” The young man looked a little apprehensive, but he stood up and bowed, “Yes, my lord, right away,” and left. The tension in the room was palpable as Cedric paced and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long, however, because Barthemaeus had returned with Gordon and the rest of the household in tow. They all made to kneel but were stopped by a word from Cedric, “Remain standing, I would have words with you. What is your name, Steward?” 

There was a smile on the old man’s face that he didn’t try to hide as he answered, “I am your humble servant, Barthemaeus, my lord. How may I be of service?” “I require willing testimony concerning the events involving my slave. No one will be compelled, but it would be of great help to me. Are there any present willing to testify?” Cedric was shocked to see the hands of every slave present slowly rise, a show of courage he had not witnessed since that first night Elias had been in his home. He nodded his head and listened to each account in turn. When they had finished, Cedric thanked them all, turned around, and passed judgment.

“By the testimony of these and other witnesses and by the power vested in me by His Majesty as The Marquis of Winchester and Earl of Westshire, I, Lord Cedric Winchester, now strip you, Dynadin Steele, of title, lands, and holdings. For the crime of destruction of private property and mismanagement of personal property, you have been so judged. Take him to the magistrate. Tell His Honor that I will be along to explain.” The instructions were directed to the guards, who bowed, drug Dynadin to his feet, and marched him out the door.

As soon as the guards had left with Steele, Barthemaeus knelt before Cedric, and the rest of the household followed him. “My lord, if I may be allowed to speak?”

“Of course, Barthemaeus, you have my leave.”

“My lord, there are no words to speak the depth of our gratitude to you, for you have freed us from an evil man this day. I know it is death to insult my master, but I would risk that and more to speak the truth of our lives here.”

“Barthemaeus, you need fear no more. He is no longer your master, nor is he in any position you need fear. I admire your courage and honesty, and I want you all to know that I will be picking your next family personally. This house and these lands will have a new master, and I will ensure that you all stay together and are well treated.”

Barthemaeus spoke again, “You are most kind, my lord.” He looked as though he would continue but held back. Cedric urged him to speak. “I know I have no right, not after you have been so generous, my lord, but I would beg a favor. Please, allow Eva and Gordon to leave this place together. They are brother and sister and have suffered much in this house.”

Cedric saw two of the younger slaves shift awkwardly and exchange glances. Eva and Gordon, he thought to himself. "I will grant this favor. I will take them home with me this day if they are ready.” The last part was formed as a question aimed at the pair. Barthemaeus nodded to them when they looked to him, and so they rose and came to the front of the group. Kneeling again, it was Gordon who spoke for them, “Most gracious lord, we swear to serve you humbly and faithfully, as long as we are yours to command.”

“Gordon and Eva, as your master, I swear to care for you and protect you, as long as you are under my command.” Oaths out of the way, Cedric called the household to rise and gave them leave to rest the remainder of the day before dismissing them. He kept Gordon and Eva back long enough to make them a passport of travel between the two estates and left instruction for them to arrive no later than the evening meal. They bowed and went to prepare for their departure. Cedric made his way to the office of the Magistrate.


	6. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter I've been wanting to add to, but haven't been able to get it out on paper yet. I hope to flesh it out more in the future, but for now, I hope you enjoy.

Recovery

Elias had been in bed for the better part of two days and was beginning to go mad. The Winchesters had insisted that he rest and heal, so he had obeyed. Now, he was aching for something to do, to be useful. Lord Winchester had made a habit of visiting his chamber after the evening meal, and Elias had resolved to request being allowed to serve the next morning. Now that his master was there, Elias fumbled over the words and wasn’t sure how to express his deep need to be useful.

When Lord Winchester waved him off, saying he needed more time to heal and that he need not worry about his duties, he could not hold back any longer. He pushed himself up, gritting through the pain.

“Please, master! I need to serve again. I've seen too many warriors lay down wounded and give up and waste away. I can't stay here. Please, let me-,” he was cut off by the hand on his shoulder and the calming voice. “Easy there, young man. You'll do yourself more harm than good.”

Elias hung his head, knowing he’d pushed too far. “I beg your pardon, my lord. It is not my place to question-"

Again, the gentle squeeze of the hand on his shoulder stopped the flood of words. “There is no need for that. Believe me when I say I understand the pain of uselessness. I was wounded as a young man.” Cedric paused as he began to remove his vest and shirt to reveal the jagged scar that ran from the middle of his chest up to his left shoulder.

Elias couldn't help but gasp before breathing out, “how did you survive?” Cedric seemed to consider his answer for a moment before asking, “am I correct in remembering that your people pray?”

“Yes, my lord. The elders would seek wisdom and favor from the Unseen One.”

“Why do you say, ‘the Unseen One’?”

“Many of our neighbors had statues and figures that they prayed to. Our elders believed that our God could not be contained in an image or figure. So, he became known to us as the Unseen One.” Cedric nodded before continuing, “I also believe in an unseen God, and I know that it is He who saved me.”

Elias sat quietly for a moment, thinking, before he spoke slowly, “My lord, do you think…do you think a god would listen to the prayer of a…someone like me?”

“The God I believe in listens to the prayers of all men, no matter their position in life. Have you been praying, Elias?”

“Yes, my lord. It was when I was being beaten. I could barely think through the pain, and I just begged for help. As soon as I did, the beating stopped. And, as I made my way home, there was no way I could have made it on my own. When I passed out, in your study, there was someone there with me. He was all light and warmth, and I have never felt such peace, my lord.”

Elias looked at Cedric when he finished speaking, though his look was far away. Elias spoke with such awe that his face had taken on a sort of glow, and Cedric was reminded of another young man who had just met the One who would change his life forever. 


	7. The Runaway Carriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The carriage was going too fast! She couldn’t get out of the way! Suddenly, she was lifted off her feet and swept out of the path of the careening carriage. As the dust cleared and she had a second to catch her breath, she realized she was being held by a man, her arms wrapped around his neck. He had a very kind face and very blue eyes, but he looked worried and slightly pained. That was all she remembered before her world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve Eve! 🎄
> 
> UPDATED: Jan 22, 2021  
> Added conversation at the end!

The Runaway Carriage

It had been a long day. They had been running around town since early that morning, making sure everything would be ready for delivery for His Lordship’s birthday celebration. The butcher, the baker, and yes, even the candlestick maker; all were busy preparing their part. 

Lady Winchester had one more stop to make to check on Lord Winchester’s birthday gift, and she instructed Elias to wait outside. It had been about a week since the incident at the Steele estate, and Elias was mostly healed, if still sore. He was glad for the chance to stop for a minute, but he was distracted by a commotion at the end of the street. It was a runaway carriage, and it was heading straight for a young woman who had just stepped into the street!

The carriage was going too fast! She couldn’t get out of the way! Suddenly, she was lifted off her feet and swept out of the path of the careening carriage. As the dust cleared and she had a second to catch her breath, she realized she was being held by a man, her arms wrapped around his neck. He had a very kind face and very blue eyes, but he looked worried and slightly pained. That was all she remembered before her world went black.

As soon as she fainted, Elias knew he had to get her out of the crush of the crowd, to get her air. He carried the young woman back toward the shops and into the side alley closest to where Lady Winchester had left him. The only thing he knew to do was to try and speak to her, to wake her up gently.

She felt like she was floating, but a gentle voice was drawing her back; she couldn’t make it out. “W-What,” she asked, still coming out of the shock.

“Are you well, my lady? Do you think you can stand?” Elias asked again, without realizing he was looking directly into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen.

“Yes, I think I’m alright now, thank you,” she said, so he gently set her on her feet, but kept supporting her by one arm. “You fainted, my lady. Is there anything I can get you, my lady?” He didn’t know her rank, but he thought it was safer to aim higher rather than lower. Besides, everyone outranked him, so it didn’t really matter.

“My lady?” She laughed lightly. “Thank you for the courtesy, but I am the daughter of a knight. I am Kaelyn Howard, and you are?” She had looked up at him with those eyes. Kaelyn. It was a beautiful name - a lovely name to fit a beautiful person. He stopped himself. He knew what he was, and knew he hadn’t been acting like it since she was so casual. 

“Elias, slave of the house of Winchester, at your service, Mistress Howard,” he intoned, remembering his place. He didn’t see the look of confusion on her face because he had bowed his head and let go of her arm.

“Oh,” she said quietly as she finally noticed the ring that hung from his ear and the iron armband of his station. How could she have been so blind? She had been caught up in the moment, that’s how. Good grief, Kaelyn. Here you are, being ridiculously casual. He wasn’t complimenting you, he called you ‘my lady’ because he must. 

She was stammering out an apology of sorts about not paying attention and being confused because he had looked at her when she stopped again. She realized what that could mean for him if anyone else had seen it, but he must have misconstrued her silence as anger because he immediately dropped to a knee and began to apologize.

“I beg your pardon, Mistress Howard. I wasn’t thinking. I-I meant no offense.” How could you be so stupid? Why do you keep doing this? You’d think you’d have learned your lesson by now. He knew he should probably beg for mercy, but some part of him didn’t believe that she would be vengeful. She had been too kind. He shouldn’t know that or know that he would probably never see eyes as green as hers again.

“No, please, you don’t have to do that. I’m not offended. I was only worried about what might happen to you if someone had seen you…”

“You…were worried for…me, Miss,” Elias asked slowly, not daring to look up. He was confused that a free person should worry about him.

“I know the law says I am supposed to be angry, but you saved my life. I know that is more important, but I know that that won’t matter to others who would only see the crime.” She wanted to reach out, place a reassuring hand on his arm, knew it would only make things more confusing. So, she simply said,” I owe you a debt I can never repay.” 

Just as he was about to answer, he heard a familiar voice behind him. “What kind of trouble are you getting into, Elias?” He was wary again, now that Lady Winchester had returned. She could be hard when they were in public. He rose to his feet and turned to face Lady Winchester before returning to his knee. Better safe than sorry.

Kaelyn knew she only had a minute before Lady Winchester arrived. She had to protect her secret, but she knew she had to do what she could for the man who had saved her life. She made up her mind. She spoke to Elias in a rushed whisper, “please forgive me for what I am about to do.”

“Of course, mistress,” Elias replied, keeping his head bowed. He knew by now that people here rarely showed their true selves to others. It seemed everyone felt the need to hide. This young woman, no matter how kind she was, was no different. Yet, even as he told himself that, he could not believe it. She was different, the same sort of difference as his master, and even his mistress sometimes.

Mercia had finished with her business and had come out to find that Elias had moved out of the busy way and was now in the alleyway with a young lady. Interesting. She thought the young woman looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her. The poor girl looked ready to faint when she saw her coming. She knew she had a reputation, but she had hoped it wasn’t that bad.

“Lady Winchester,” Kaelyn said as she dropped into a deep curtsy, her eyes flicking to meet Elias’s. Were the stories of her severity true?

“Please rise, my dear. What is your name?”

“Kaelyn Howard, daughter of Sir Irving Howard, Knight of the Guard, my lady.” 

“Well, Miss Howard, it is a pleasure to meet you. How are your parents?”

“The pleasure is mine, my lady. They are well. I will be sure to pass along your regards if it pleases you.”

“Yes, thank you, I have not spoken with your mother in quite some time. Now, I must inquire as to why you are secreted away in this alley.” With my slave. It wasn’t said aloud, but it was clearly implied. Her tone was not harsh, but it held her authority.

“Of course, my lady. I was just crossing the street when a carriage came crashing around the corner. I didn’t have time to get out of the way, but,” she looked at Elias and schooled her expression to indifference. “Your slave saved me.”

“I am glad you are safe, and that the Winchester house was able to be of service,” said Mercia, genuinely pleased, though she noted the hint of disgust in the young lady’s face. Interesting.

” I am grateful for the service, my lady.” The hesitation was evident, and Mercia sensed there was more. “What is it, Miss Howard?”

“I do not wish to speak ill of your house, my lady, but I must be frank. I was so dazed by the whole mess that I hadn’t realized who had saved me. My confusion was compounded by the fact that the slave was looking at me while he spoke, as he asked if I was alright. He quickly realized his mistake when I asked his name. He identified himself as a member of your house, my lady, and was in the process of begging my pardon when you arrived.”

How could he do this again? This young woman could have him flogged, and I don’t know if he’ll survive it this time. If I am harsh, it might dissuade her. Let’s hope she is feeling generous. 

“Well, boy? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“There is no excuse for my actions, and I take full responsibility for any confusion and offense they have caused, my lady,” he replied and waited for her judgment.

Her voice was hard as she spoke, “This would seem to be your Achilles heel, boy. I would have thought your back would have been enough of a reminder to keep your place. It would seem not. I cannot understand how you can persist in your refusal to accept your place. I know no other way but to continue to beat it into you, slave.” The word was spat out in disgust as she backhanded him across the face. Kaelyn barely held back the cry that wanted to leap out of her throat for him.

“I am sorry I got a bit caught up in that, dear. This slave has been obstinate since the day I bought him. If you wish to choose his punishment, I will gladly have it carried out. It is your right, after all.” The highest penalty is death. She is putting his life in my hands!

“Thank you for your consideration, my lady. Normally, I would never let such an insult pass. However, under the circumstances, I have decided to pardon him, if that is acceptable to you, my lady.”

“I must admit, I am surprised. I will, of course, honor your wish, if you are certain there is no way my house may compensate you for this insult.”

“In truth, my lady, I had considered demanding recompense, but I could not ignore the great service the slave did me. I would be remiss if I did not reward such service.”

“As you wish, Miss Howard. In your name and in your hearing, I, Mercia Winchester, so pardon this slave of my house.”

Elias was still trying to process everything that had happened. It was becoming challenging to switch between the different sides of Lady Winchester, but he knew one thing. He had most certainly pushed Lady Winchester too far. After all, she had never struck him before; this may have been one mistake too many. But this woman he had just met, and offended, had pardoned him. He silently thanked whoever had been watching over him for this mercy and answered his lady. “I thank you, Most Gracious Lady, for your mercy, unworthy as I am.”

Lady Winchester held out her hand, and he kissed it, a sign of his gratitude, and submission. “Very good. You may yet learn. I give you leave to speak your gratitude to Miss Howard.”

He stood, stepped between the two ladies, and sank down to his knees in front of Mistress Kaelyn. “I beg you would forgive your humble servant, but there are no words to express the depth of my gratitude to you, merciful lady.” 

Kaelyn knew she had a part to play, as well, though she hated it. She was glad she did not have to speak, for she had not the words. She raised her hand so that he might kiss it, but his response surprised her. He took her hand and, rather than kiss it, he pressed it to his forehead and, releasing it, bowed his face to the ground. Then, he stood and backed away from the women to stand a respectful distance off.  
Mercia was as shocked as Kaelyn, for she had never seen this custom, nor this level of deference from him. Perhaps she had pushed him too far? She hoped he would be able to forgive her. It appeared Kaelyn had recovered enough to speak.

“I am grateful, my lady, for the service your house has done me, and now, I must beg your leave to go. My mother will be wondering what is keeping me.”

“You have my leave. I look forward to seeing you and your parents at the celebration.”

Great. I had forgotten entirely. “I look forward to it, my lady. Good evening, my lady.” With a deep curtsey, Kaelyn bid her farewell, not even risking a glance in Elias' direction. It would have been better for everyone if she had just been paying attention to where she was walking. Please let her honor my request when they are home.

As soon as Miss Howard was out of sight, Lady Winchester turned to address Elias; he was as a marble statue, save for his breathing. She wanted to speak to him but thought it better to wait. “I am finished with my business. Go ahead of me to the stables and make sure the horses are prepared for our departure,” she commanded, with little emotion.

Elias bowed deeply and replied, “Your will be done, my lady,” before heading out into the street in the direction of the stables.

“Bron, my friend, do you have a minute?”

Elias had been so glad to see his friend as he had led the two horses into the stables. Lady Winchester had gone straight in to the house as soon as they had returned, but not before saying she had no further need of his services at present and that he should tend to the horses. Her continued coldness worried him and he hoped Bron could give him some insight. 

Bron looked up from his task and smiled broadly. “For you? Most of the time,” he replied jokingly. He continued to rake out the stall he was working on as he continued, “What do you need?”

“Your advice, if you’d give it," Elias replied as he began to tend to Her Ladyship's horse. "We were just in town and I am worried that I have displeased Her Ladyship.”

“Did she say she was displeased? With Her Ladyship, one usually doesn’t have to wonder.” Elias knew Bron would never disrespect her ladyship and noted his playful tone.

“She…she slapped me. She has never struck me before, and I have never heard of her doing so to anyone else in the house.”

Bron lost all humor in his face and his voice become strained and worried, “what did you do, Elias?” He had fully stopped working now, and leaned heavily on his pitch fork.

“I spoke to a lady, and looked at her. It was an accident, sort of. Oh, Bron, I am such a fool! She was going to be run over by a carriage, so I grabbed her up and took her away from the crowd. I was only checking if she was alright. I never meant to look into her eyes! She told Her Ladyship, which is when she slapped me. I know I deserved it and worse, but the lady… she asked for my pardon. My head is still spinning and I do not know what to do.”

“Egad,” Bron huffed out as he began to pace the stable floor. He seemed to think of something because he spun around on his heel and launched into a question. “You said she, the lady, pardoned you though, right?” Elias could only nod. “That’s good. Her Ladyship is a lady of her word, so that is something. I don't know what more will come of it, but I don't think she will add further punishment." Bron had moved to stand with Elias and place his hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "She may have been angry in the moment, or worried she was not showing a firm enough hand and overreacted. Who can know the lady’s mind? If she has said nothing more about it, I would leave it. Let her bring it up if she wills.”

“You are right, my friend. There is no use in worrying further. Her Ladyship will do as she wills. I cannot help the feeling that I fail no matter what I do. Oh well, I should get back to work, and so should you. Thank you, for letting me take your time.”

“Of course, my friend. Do not be afraid, all will be well.”


	8. The Birthday Ball

The Birthday Ball

She saw him across the room, standing like a statue against one wall. He was holding a tray of small delicacies that guests picked from as they passed. Nobody even seemed to notice the man holding the dish as if he were merely furniture. She was pulled back to the circle of chatting ladies by a twittering, “Well, what do you think, Miss Howard?”

“I beg your pardon. Think about what?”

“That whole mess with Dynadin, of course. Haven’t you been listening?” Lady Gwendolyn Thomas asked, annoyed.

“I do apologize, Lady Gwendolyn. I do not usually pay attention to rumors and such, but from what I’ve heard, I believe that matter was justly resolved.” She didn’t add what she had wanted to, that, if the rumors of his cruelty were true, he had gotten off easy. Apparently, even that simple statement was shocking enough for Lady Gwendolyn.

“Justly resolved," she was asking in disbelief. “A man lost everything, and over what? A disobedient slave.” Her sickly-sweet voice was marred by the contempt she felt for the slave. Kaelyn tried to keep her voice level as she replied, “Lord Winchester’s slave. If the rumors are true, and Dynadin beat that slave nearly to death for forgetting to kneel, can you truly believe it was deserved? Do you question the wisdom of the Marquis or his right to justice, Lady Gwendolyn, as you drink his wine and eat his food?”

The group became very quiet then, and everyone seemed to be avoiding each other’s eyes. Gwendolyn glared at her, and mocked, “Well, ladies. You heard it yourselves. Miss Howard, it would seem, is a slave-lover.” The term had come to refer to those who took a public stand for better treatment for slaves. Kaelyn had had enough of talking politics and so excused herself from the group, saying she needed to stretch her legs.

She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she needed to be away from the prissy circle. She found herself wandering through the crowd of guests, barely listening to the conversations and laughter. She was so lost in her wanderings that she did not realize she had made her way to the far side of the ballroom. She noticed a small alcove then, with a cushioned couch sunk into it. She took a seat, grateful for a quieter place to rest and think. She hadn’t ever been one to thrive on the energy of a banquet, though she always attended in support of her family. As she sat thinking, suddenly, all the pieces seemed to fall together. The slave who was beaten by Dynadin. The pain she had seen in Elias’ face as he carried her to safety. The comment Lady Winchester had made about Elias’ back serving as a reminder to keep his place. Elias was the one who almost died at Dynadin’s hand! 

She was drawn out of her thoughts by a shadow and a quiet voice, “Are you well, my lady?” She knew the speaker, even before she looked up. “Elias,” she almost blurted, failing to contain her excitement at seeing him again. She composed herself and continued, “yes, thank you, I am quite well. I only needed to sit a moment and be away from the noise.” She realized she was blushing and smiling like a fool but hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“I am pleased to hear it…my lady,” came the quiet, almost joking reply. She saw the ghost of a smile on his lips before he schooled his expression. He continued, “May I offer you a refreshment,” lowering the tray she had only just now noticed he was holding.

“Yes, thank you. That was so thoughtful of you,” Kaelyn replied, taking the offered goblet. He’s still saying, ‘my lady,’ she glowed to herself. She had a question on her mind to ask, but she didn’t know how to say it. She decided to go for it before he was called away.

“Elias…can I…can you…” She fumbled with her words and fidgeted with her goblet. She could not look at him now, remembering the awful way she had behaved in front of Lady Winchester. Elias seemed to sense her meaning, for she heard the soft reply, “Please do not feel any guilt for that day, my lady. The fault lies with me alone, and I am…deeply sorry I placed you in such an awkward position.”

Just as she was about to reply, she caught a glimpse of Lady Gwendolyn walking behind Elias. A second later, he was falling toward her, and she couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise. She caught another glimpse of Lady Gwendolyn, and the look on her face told Kaelyn all she needed to know.

Elias managed to drop the tray and catch himself on the couch behind her. He had not actually landed on top of her, but that could not be seen from outside the alcove. All an onlooker could tell was that a slave was pressed into a nook with a lady, and she had cried out. Only a matter of seconds had passed, but it was enough time for people to turn and look, and for Gwendolyn to enact the second part of her plan.

She stood in the crowd and exclaimed in mock horror, “Oh my, what is that slave doing to her!” Kaelyn heard it but only had time to look up and see the fear in Elias’ eyes before he was dragged backward by two sets of strong hands and forced to his knees. Kaelyn’s “rescuers” were two guests, Knights of the Guard, by their uniforms. 

Kaelyn was still shaken, but she knew she had to do something fast. Elias was surely going to be punished for “attacking” her unless she could somehow explain what had happened. She was on her feet about to ask the knights to let him go when a voice cut through the whispers, “What is going on here?”

Lord Winchester had arrived on the scene to find two knights holding an already compliant Elias in a kneeling position in front of a young woman. Her dress was covered in wine, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her face was a mix of worry and determination, and she held herself with the surety of a lady of rank. What have you done now, Elias? Please let it be an accident. The young lady’s voice drew Cedric out of his thoughts.

“Lord Winchester, if I may,” she ventured, waiting for the nod to continue. Kaelyn had become acutely aware of the stares of the guests and the cool of the drink now covering her dress, but she pushed them from her mind; she needed to focus. Kaelyn continued when she saw the nod from Lord Winchester. “My lord, I do not wish to disturb your celebration any further and would beg a private audience to explain matters.” She held her breath, hoping he would agree. He seemed to consider it, and at last, nodded his approval.

He turned to address the crowd, “My apologies for departing to deal with business, but please enjoy yourselves.” He then instructed the musicians to resume and the slaves to bring refreshments. He gestured for her to follow him to an adjoining study. They were followed by the two knights who unceremoniously dragged Elias up to his feet and marched him between them. Kaelyn did not realize it until they had reached the study, but Lady Gwendolyn had managed to join the little party.

Once in the study and behind closed doors, the group arranged themselves around the room. Winchester stood in front of his desk, hands behind his back, studying the room. Kaelyn had stopped a short distance from Lord Winchester and was showing a much calmer exterior that what she felt. The knights marched Elias into the center of the room, pushed him down to his knees, and assumed positions of attention, each placing a heavy hand on his shoulders.

Lady Gwendolyn Thomas followed up the party and stood just inside the doors as they were shut by a slave. She did not believe anyone was observing her, and so did not try to hide the look of smug amusement from her face as she watched Kaelyn. As soon as Kaelyn had insulted her in the ladies’ circle, Gwendolyn had begun plotting her revenge. So, when she saw Kaelyn sitting and talking, talking, with a slave, she knew what she would do. There was no chance that she was going to miss the fruits of her plan. The slave-lover would be forced to either embarrass herself by defending him or choose his punishment, either of which suited her purposes.

Cedric, however, had been studying everyone as they had filed in and took note of the young woman’s expression, as well as her keen interest in the young woman nearest him. There was malice in her face, and Cedric wanted to know what it had to do with the current situation. He took a breath and began the proceedings. “Young lady? Are you going to be joining us?” He gestured for Gwendolyn to join them at his desk. She bowed and made her way forward.

“Now, I would know your names and the reasons you have come here if you please, ladies,” Cedric stated, turning his gaze to Kaelyn, and offering a nod to begin.

“My lord, my name is Kaelyn Howard, daughter of Sir Irving Howard, Knight of the Guard. I wished to speak with you in private so that the matter might be fully understood and not distorted.”

“My name is Gwendolyn Thomas, daughter of The Earl of Withington. I wish to humbly offer my insight into this matter.” 

“You were a witness, then, Lady Thomas?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Thank you. I would hear the reason you called this meeting, Mistress Howard.”

“I asked to speak privately because I believe the matter was already being misunderstood, even as it happened. I needed to rest, and so sat on the couch. The slave approached and asked if I was well. I recognized him from town about a week ago. He saved me from a runaway carriage. He gave me a goblet to drink and obliged me by staying for a moment of conversation.” She was cut off by a scoff.

“Conversation? With a slave? What could you possibly have had to talk about?” The sneering voice was strange coming from such a well-painted face, but there it was.

“Young lady, if you would refrain from interrupting, I will allow you to stay,” spoke Lord Winchester, rather coldly.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.”

“It is not my pardon you need to ask, Lady Gwendolyn, for it is not I whom you interrupted,” Lord Winchester stated frankly.

Annoyance seemed to flash across the young woman’s face, but it was so brief Cedric thought he’d imagined it. She bowed her head and directed her next words to Kaelyn. “Your pardon, Mistress Howard.”

Kaelyn nodded her assent before looking to Lord Winchester.

“You may continue, Miss Howard.”

“Thank you. I accepted the drink and was speaking with the slave when he fell on to the couch.”

Cedric interjected then, “What do you mean, he fell?”

“I apologize, my lord. I was unclear.” She steeled herself, then, and prayed to whoever was listening that this would work. “What I should have said was, I believe he was pushed into the alcove intentionally. Whether to injure or insult me, I know not which, but I do know that he was standing still one moment and crashing down on me the next.”

It looked as though Lord Winchester was about to speak when a sickly sweet “Eh-hem” rang out. Kaelyn’s heart fell as their eyes met, and she saw the flash of cruel satisfaction. “Yes, young lady,” Lord Winchester questioned, waiting for the explanation for the interruption. “Forgive the interruption, my lord,” she began sweetly. “Only, I believe I may be able to offer another perspective.”

“What did you see?”

She launched into her account of things in the knowledge that Lord Winchester would have to accept her word since she outranked Miss Howard. That was the way of things.

“I was strolling around the ballroom when I happened to pass the alcove in the corner. I came upon it just in time to see this slave look around while she was occupied with her drink, to see that none was watching, then throw himself at Miss Howard. Of course, I had to raise the alarm for her sake. Who knows how far he might have taken it?”

“You lie,” Kaelyn couldn’t help but blurt out as she turned on Gwendolyn. “We were speaking up until the moment he fell. Elias never-, “she stopped herself cold, then, realizing she may have just made things so much worse. She slowly turned back to face Lord Winchester, glancing down at Elias, but his head was hanging down.

“So,” Lord Winchester began, “you are more acquainted with my slave than you let on, Miss Howard. How is it that you are so familiar with him?”

“Please forgive my outburst, my lord. I forgot myself. I am not familiar with him. We have met only once before tonight. It was a week past, in town. I was crossing the street and was nearly hit by a runaway carriage. I say ‘nearly’ because I was pulled out of the way by this young man. I was so dazed that I asked his name, not seeing his marks, and he obliged me, introducing himself as a member of your household, my lord. He stayed with me, making sure I was well until Lady Winchester arrived. He risked his life to save mine. That is why I cannot believe him capable of such maliciousness, my lord.” Kaelyn finished, realizing she had been speaking rather intensely and needed a steadying breath.

Lord Winchester nodded, seeming to weigh the matter in his mind before addressing the room at large. “I have heard testimonies from two witnesses and found them to be in conflict. I hold that any man who stands accused should be given the right to defend himself.” He addressed the knights then, “Sirs if you would allow the young man to stand.” They immediately stepped back from the kneeling figure so that they stood behind him.

Gwendolyn was seething. She thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Allowing a slave to testify when a lady had already given testimony against him? It was unheard of! What could he do? Contradict her? That would mean calling her, an earl’s daughter, a liar. This must have been what happened to Dynadin. She had heard that a slave’s testimony had been taken into account then, too. She had always thought the Winchesters were too high for their own good, but now she could see it for herself.

“My lord, I really must protest. A slave has no legal standing in any court, and- “She was cut off then by a raised hand from Lord Winchester. “I will decide who does and does not have standing in my home, Lady Thomas, and you will abide by my ruling. If your account is true, you have no reason to worry about what he has to say.” Sufficiently silenced, all she could do was incline her head and take a step away from the desk. 

Elias took the cue to rise from his knees and assume a position of attention. Shoulders back, hands behind his back, head up, but his eyes were focused on the far wall. “Good,” Lord Cedric said. “You have been accused of attacking Miss Howard. I want an account of your actions this evening, beginning with your movements just before interacting with Miss Howard. I expect the full truth and nothing more. In this instance and this instance only, you have my leave to speak as freely as need be.”

“By your will, my lord,” said Elias, bowing before he began. “I was serving refreshments in the ballroom when I noticed Miss Howard sitting down in the alcove. In truth, I recognized her. There was no one else serving on that side of the room, so I made my way over to see if she required anything.” He paused for a moment, as if deciding what to say next, and then continued. “By your leave, my lord, I would beg Mistress Howard’s permission to continue, for I do not wish to divulge a conversation that she may have wished to remain private. Only, you have asked for a full accounting, and I would hold nothing back, my lord.”

Cedric looked to the young lady, “Does he have your leave to discuss your conversation, Miss Howard?”

“He has it, but he should not need it, my lord. I beg your pardon for not mentioning it. It was never my intention to withhold,” Kaelyn said, wishing she hadn’t put this on him.

“Very well. Elias, continue.”

“Thank you, my lord. I approached the alcove, made my presence known, and inquired to see if she was well. She recognized me from town, and she said she was well and only needed a quiet moment to rest. After I had offered her a drink, she...” Elias paused, knowing he wanted to leave out what Mistress Howard had asked him about. It ate at him, because he had never lied to his master, and did not wish to start now. He also did not want to betray the lady’s secret she had guarded so carefully.

Lord Winchester must have seen the conflict in his face because he asked, “What is wrong, Elias?”

He began again, slowly, “My lord, I must beg your pardon for not wishing to share the full truth. After I had given Mistress Howard a goblet, she expressed a feeling of guilt about the incident with the carriage. She blamed herself for being in the situation that led to my failure.”

“What failure do you mean, Elias?”

“After I had pulled Mistress Howard away from the carriage, in my haste to see she was alright, I spoke to her as a freeman might. In her mercy, she granted me a pardon as a reward for rescuing her. I was reluctant to speak of it, my lord, but you deserve only the truth.”

“I appreciate your honesty. Continue your account of the events.”

“Yes, my lord. I had just reassured her that the blame was completely mine when I felt a sharp pain in the back of my knee, causing it to buckle. I realized I couldn’t stop myself and so dropped the tray, so as not to injure Mistress Howard with it. I caught myself on the back of the couch, again, so as not to injure or insult Mistress Howard by falling on her. I heard a cry from someone who must have believed I had … done it on purpose, and then I was restrained by the knights here present. That was when your lordship arrived.”

“I offer my humblest apologies, my lord, for any embarrassment or confusion I have caused, to yourself, Mistress Kaelyn, Lady Gwendolyn, and the honorable knights.” As soon as he had finished speaking, Elias bowed low and then took up his previous position, kneeling before his master. He knew he had told as much of the truth as he knew and could not understand why someone had started this whole mess. Elias hoped that his and Mistress Kaelyn’s accounts would be enough. If he could have read his master’s mind, he would have seen that they shared similar questions.

Cedric nodded, acknowledging Elias’ apologies. “Thank you, Elias. I appreciate your honesty as well as your apology, though I do not believe it is you who ought to be apologizing.” With that, he turned his attention to Kaelyn. “Mistress Kaelyn, are you satisfied with this slave’s account of your meeting?”

“I am, my lord.”

“Am I correct in believing, then, that you do not wish to press charges, even for the damage done to your dress?”

“My lord, you are correct that I do not wish to press charges against (she almost said “Elias” but did not want to sound too familiar) this slave, for I do not hold him at fault. I do, however, want to call Lady Gwendolyn to account, for I believe it was she who caused him to fall, and then further lied to these knights and you, my lord.”

“Lady Gwendolyn, do you wish to give an answer to Mistress Kaelyn?”

“It was supposed to be a silly prank,” she said, exasperated and annoyed that her plan had not worked. “She insulted me in front of friends, and I wanted her to be embarrassed. The slave was the perfect excuse. What could be more embarrassing than having a slave land in your lap?”

“You do realize that pressing false charges and giving false testimony are crimes, do you not, Lady Gwendolyn?”

“It was a joke! How was I supposed to know he had saved her or whatever, or that she’d defend him so tirelessly? He’s just a slave.”

“You will mind your tone, young lady, and remember to whom you speak,” Lord Winchester said in his fullest authoritative tone. “You have embarrassed a guest in my home, lied to these honorable men and to me, and brought false charges against a member of my household.” Gwendolyn was about to protest when she was stopped by Lord Cedric’s raised hand in warning. “The next words you speak will be a full apology for your actions this night, to Mistress Kaelyn, to these knights, and to me. Am I understood?”

Seething, but knowing she had no other option, Gwendolyn curtsied and replied, “Completely, my lord.”

“Mistress Kaelyn, will you accept my apology for embarrassing you?”

“I will, Lady Gwendolyn.”

Gwendolyn then turned to face the knights standing behind them. They did not look pleased. Another slice of humble pie to go. “Sirs, will you accept my apology for misleading you?” They exchanged glances, as though actually deciding whether they would or not before each answered in the affirmative. Two down, one more to go, she thought, turning back to face Lord Winchester.

“My lord, will you accept my apology for misleading you in this matter?”

“Young lady, you have done more than mislead me. You have deliberately lied to me, which could have caused me to punish an innocent man. I do not believe you see the harm you might have caused, but because you are young and have much yet to learn, I will accept your apology. I will also be speaking to your father about this matter. Now, I deem this matter concluded. Sirs, again, I thank you for your assistance and witness to these proceedings. You are dismissed.” They bowed and took their leave, returning to the ballroom.

“Ladies, you are also excused.” Gwendolyn curtsied very shallowly before also returning to the ballroom.

“Mistress Kaelyn, if you require a change of clothes, I am sure Lady Winchester will be able to find you something suitable.”

“I am very grateful, my lord, but I am sure my parents will be departing shortly, so I shall not be uncomfortable for long.” She also curtsied, but much lower, before continuing, “I am grateful also, my lord, for your wisdom and justice in this matter.” She then departed, not really daring to look down at Elias, who was still kneeling in the center of the room.

When they were alone, Cedric walked over to Elias and offered him a hand. Elias took it and stood, grateful to be able to stretch his legs.

“You really do have a talent for getting into trouble, don’t you son,” Cedric joked, mussing Elias’ hair. “I don’t even work at it, my lord,” Elias joked back, thankful that it had all been resolved, and that he had such a wise master. Any other would have taken the lady’s word over his. “Tomorrow morning, come to my study, we need to talk.”

“As you wish, my lord. Should I return to the hall?”

“No. That might not be wise, considering. Go around, to the kitchens, see that they have what they need.”

Elias bowed and left out a side door, which led to a servant’s passage. Cedric sighed, shook his head, and made his way back to the ballroom. The rest of the evening was uneventful, by comparison, and Cedric could not have been more thankful.


	9. Journey of Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fixed a few minor grammatical errors 😅

Journey of Discovery 

“You summoned me, my lord?” Elias stood in Lord Cedric's office, as instructed the night before. Cedric was already working on the business of running a county and rose from his desk to speak with Elias. “Good morning, Elias. Come, join me by the fire.” When Cedric had seated himself in his arm chair in front of the fireplace and Elias had taken his place standing opposite, Cedric began.

“Last night was another in a growing list of interesting situations you’ve managed to find yourself in, Elias. You have been fortunate that, in each, you have found an ally to defend you. It seems that you keep doing or saying things that you would have been free to do in your life before, and it would seem to others that you refuse to accept your position. There will come a day when you may not have an ally, as in the incident with Dynadin. Can you tell me why you keep slipping back in to your old freedoms?”

Elias shifted in place, finally faced with the reality of all his mistakes. He had known that it would all come back, eventually, and had been wracking his mind over the very question his master had asked. There was nothing to do but try and explain it, even though he did not fully understand himself. He took a breath and began.

“It is difficult, my lord, to put into words the struggle it has been to fight my old nature. May I beg your leave to speak freely, my lord, so that I might best explain?” Cedric could see the struggle in the young man’s face and knew he would use the freedom wisely. He nodded his assent and Elias continued.

“In all honesty, my lord, I took risks, sometimes intentionally and sometimes instinctively. I was trained to act, my lord, to trust my instincts. It has not been easy to overcome. I thanked the Master blacksmith as a man, eye to eye, out of respect. He was the first to treat me like a person, after so long being either ignored or beaten down. I defied Sir --"

Cedric interrupted, “Do not give him a title that has been removed, Elias.”

“Yes, my lord. I spoke insolently because he insulted her ladyship, and I could not stand it. I forgot myself with Mistress Howard because I saw a woman in danger and I acted. I know in my mind that I hold this position and I do my utmost to live within it, but my heart betrays me. I know my actions reflect upon you, my lord, and I am deeply sorry if I have brought shame upon you.”

Elias hung his head, knowing he had most assuredly brought shame to this house, and knowing even more deeply that, given the chance to relive each failure, he could have done better.

Cedric leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fist, clearly processing all that Elias had said. He knew well the feeling of fighting against training. He felt it every time he chose to soften a request rather than bark an order, and every time he had to refrain from whirling to find the source of a shout or horse’s scream. He knew he could not understand everything Elias was facing, but he knew he had to encourage him somehow. The young man’s life literally depended upon his ability to adapt.

“I appreciate your honesty, as always. You have given me no reason to question your dedication, within these walls. Unfortunately, it is out there that it truly matters. I trust you to represent this house when you leave it, but others, as you well know, are not as trusting. If it appears that we cannot control our own household, the people will lose faith in us to represent their best interests. Do you understand?”

“I understand, my lord. My father was hardest on me and my brothers, so that the people knew he was fair and just. If I may, my lord? I will gladly accept punishment if I ever act in a manner which brings you dishonor.”

Cedric stood and, walking over to the young man, placed his hand on his shoulder. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I feel I must state the obvious. It is no longer your decision what happens to you, punishment or otherwise. I would have you put your energy into behaving in such a manner as to avoid any such circumstances, rather than accepting the consequences after the fact. Am I understood?”

Elias ducked his head again, feeling the shame of, again, overstepping. “Yes, my lord. I beg your pardon for suggesting such a thing. I fear I have proven your point.”

“I am afraid I am not helping.” Cedric released Elias' shoulder and turned away, beginning to pace. “I strive to treat all of you fairly, but I am guilty of forgetting it is not the same out there. I have done what I can to change things, but change comes far too slowly." He stopped in his pacing and turned back to Elias. He needed his to understand the gravity of the situation. He walked over and stood in front of Elias.

"I am going to ask you to look me in the eye, Elias, so I can be sure you understand the gravity of what I am telling you." Elias slowly raised his eyes to his master's face, suddenly wary of what was about to happen. He saw the depth of worry etched in that kind face, and felt shame for causing it.

Cedric continued, holding Elias' gaze, "The best protection I can give you is my name, and the reminder to always be wary. It is best to believe that you have no friends outside these walls and to act accordingly. There is nothing I am willing to do that can change your mindset; that rests entirely upon you. Your very life depends upon your ability to adapt to this new life, harsh as that may be to hear. You know that I am a fair man, and that means that I will give chances for improvement, but must punish infractions. Understand that I do this so that you might learn and improve. If I did not care about you, I would say nothing and allow another to choose how you aught to be treated." 

The weight of his master's words cracked something in Elias' heart, perhaps his pride. He had pushed her ladyship to strike him in order to protect him, and now his lordship was pleading with him to change so that he wouldn't have to punish him. He'd been choosing himself rather than thinking of how his actions affected anyone else around him. He fell to his knees then, feeling broken for the first time since his capture. He would do better; he would fight his pride. 

"Please, my lord, forgive me. Forgive my pride." 


End file.
